Monday, March 24, 2003

I had a rough night of it.  I was a bit depressed going to bed, which is often what happens when I’ve spent the balance of the day alone with Eric in full Blanche mode, and sleep was not good – lots of pet anxiety dreams.  Yes, I have recurring pet anxiety dreams; most of them involve mutilations of my snake.  How’s that for Freudian?  And today I have an unpleasant doctor’s appointment to look forward too, and I’m already running late for work.  So this will be a short one.  The menu Sunday was Caneton Poêle aux Navets (Casserole-Roasted Duck with Turnips) and Petits Pois Frais a l’Anglaise (Buttered Peas #1 – “for very tender, sweet, fresh, green peas.”)  I ventured out to Chelsea to Whole Foods, my duck outlet.  As irritating as it can be, I have a sort of possessive streak when it comes to Whole Foods.  I remember when Whole Foods was this skanky little storefront grocery on Lamar that smelled like hummus.  Now that it’s this enormous corporate success I can’t help being proud despite myself.  Also annoyed by and condescending to all the privileged New Yorkers this place is packed full of.  Anyone who only knows the Austin stores should know that the New York Whole Foods is much more of the Central Market format --  a fairyland food extravaganza, designed rather like an amusement park, so that all the delightful goodies are just waiting to be plucked up, mostly near the outrageous but amazingly fast-moving checkout lines.  I myself bought, in addition to the duck, some turnips, English peas, cilantro and a tomato for some guacamole, since Eric had not used the avocado he’d bought for Spicy Thursday, and it was going to go bad, a bouquet of white rununculus.  And I had to tear myself away from the French cider. Anyway.  Home with duck and turnips.  I shelled the peas while watching the war.  Shelling peas feels essentially homey and familiar, though I certainly never did any of it growing up.  Peas were pretty much anathema in our house.  But they smell green and springy, and the peas are so pretty lined up in their pods, and then you run your thumb along them and they pop out into the bowl with a plink.  Lovely.  That said, these peas were pretty fucking enormous, and I was not at all sure they’d be good served as I’d decided to serve them, in a recipe designed for, as I’ve mentioned, “very tender, sweet, fresh, green peas.”  Ah well.  This dinner really was pretty much too easy to talk about – I hardly missed any of the Oscars, even.  (Though who cares, really.  I’ve found that the older I get, the more bored I am by the Oscars.  Maybe I’m just getting jaded.  Though watching all the pretty actors not know how to think about all the various war statements was funny.)  Just dry the duck, and salt and pepper it, truss it up.  Brown it in lard in a casserole on the stove top, about five minutes per side.  Stick it in a 325-degree oven, covered, for 50 minutes or so, with some parsley, a bay leaf, and a bit of thyme.  Peel the turnips and dice them into ¾ inch chunks.  Boil them five minutes and drain.  When the duck has cooked 50 minutes, take it out of the casserole, drain the (copious) fat, and put it back in.  Also put in the turnips.  Baste the turnips with a bit of the duck fat, cover the casserole, and stick it back in the oven for another half hour.  And that’s pretty much it for the duck.  The skin, of course, is not as crispy as a regular roasted duck, but the meat is meltingly tender and yummy as all duck it, and the turnips soak up the fat nicely.  For the peas, just simmer them in water for five minutes, drain, and throw them back in the sauce pan with salt, pepper and sugar, tossing over moderate heat until the last of the water has evaporated.  Serve with a pat of butter.  And though they were not the very sweet little peas Julia would have had me use, they were okay.  Maybe they’ll never be my favorite vegetable, but I’m coming around. Okay, crap, I gotta go now.  7:55:43 AM    comment []